Family Pride eBook

She knew it was the Cameron carriage, for Wilford
had said it would meet them; but she had not expected
it to be just what it was, and she bowed humbly to
the polite coachman greeting Wilford and herself so
respectfully. “What would our folks say?”
she kept repeating to herself as she drove along the
streets, where they were beginning to light the street
lamps, for the December day was dark and cloudy.
It seemed so like a dream that she, who once had picked
huckleberries on the Silverton hills, and bound coarse,
heavy shoes to buy herself a pink gingham dress, should
now be riding in her carriage toward the home which
she knew was magnificent; and Katy’s tears fell
like rain as, nestling close to Wilford, who asked
what was the matter, she whispered: “I
can hardly believe that it is I—­it is so
unreal.”

With a great effort, Katy kept her tears back, and
was very calm when they reached the brownstone front,
far enough uptown to save it from the slightest approach
to plebeianism from contact with its downtown neighbors.
In the hall the chandelier was burning, and as the
carriage stopped a flame of light seemed suddenly
to burst from every window as the gas heads were turned
up, so that Katy caught glimpses of rich silken curtains
and costly lace as she went up the steps, clinging
to Wilford and looking ruefully around for Esther,
who had disappeared through the basement door.
Another moment and they stood within the marbled hall,
Katy conscious of nothing definite—­nothing
but a vague consciousness of refined elegance, and
that a handsome, richly-dressed lady came out to meet
them, kissing Wilford quietly, and calling him her
son—­that the same lady later turned to her,
saying, kindly: “And this is my new daughter?”

Then Katy came to life, and did that at the very thought
of which she shuddered when a few months’ experience
had taught her the temerity of the act—­she
wound her arms impulsively around Mrs. Cameron’s
neck, rumpling her point lace collar, and sadly displacing
the coiffeur of the astonished lady, who had seldom
received so genuine a greeting as that which Katy
gave her, kissing her lips and whispering softly:
“I love you now, because you are Wilford’s
mother, but by and by because you are mine. And
you will love me some because I am his wife.”

Wilford was horrified, particularly when he saw how
startled his mother looked as she tried to release
herself and adjust her tumbled headgear. It was
not what he had hoped, nor what his mother had expected,
for she was unaccustomed to such demonstrations; but
under the circumstances Katy could not have done better.
There was a tender spot in Mrs. Cameron’s heart,
and Katy touched it, making her feel a throb of affection
for the childish creature suing for her love.